


A Study In Language

by stormbornsterek



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 3b characters may appear, Alive Hale Family, Alternate Universe - Alive Hale Family, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Deaf Character, Hand & Finger Kink, Human Derek Hale, M/M, POV Alternating, Teacher Derek, Teacher-Student Relationship, disregarding any deaths that happened in season two
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-30
Updated: 2015-04-13
Packaged: 2018-02-11 00:25:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2046000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stormbornsterek/pseuds/stormbornsterek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Looking down the list of students, he noticed one name that stood out, the only name with a special circumstance listed. Stilinski. Something. ‘No one could pronounce that,’ Derek thought to himself as he took the stairs two steps at a time. He stopped trying to figure out the kid’s name and focused on his special circumstance. “Deaf,” was all the paper listed.</p><p>Or, the one where Derek has a new student in his class that is Deaf, is an Ancient Languages major, and has delightfully dexterous fingers he uses to speak. Derek is so screwed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Class One

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to my first ever fanfiction published on AO3! I've attempted a few before on other sites, but with this one, I figured I'd try again.  
> I have the second chapter half written, but I have a seriously busy schedule starting in two weeks with four classes with two labs, a job, and homework. So, I'll try and update as soon as I can, but I currently have no posting schedule. Please bear with me while I figure everything out. 
> 
> A few extra notes: italicized sentences using double quotation marks are sentences written down. Underlined sentences are sentences Stiles lipreads. Depending on the situation, Derek speaks in quotations like regular dialog and Stiles' quotation marks are sentences using sign language. For the sake of flow, I've made the "executive" decision that sentences signed in ASL will have English grammar and not ASL sentence structure. 
> 
> Thanks and enjoy the first chapter!

Derek grabbed his lecture bag, filled with the syllabi he printed for his new students, picked up the list of his students, and headed out to the lecture hall. It was his third and final lecture for the day. Hopefully this class wouldn’t be filled with obnoxious, inattentive, and passive students who finish the least amount of work possible to still pass the class. It was a junior level class, one of the first an Ancient Languages major will take following the completion of their general education classes.

Looking down the list of students, he noticed one name that stood out, the only name with a special circumstance listed. Stilinski. Something. _‘No one could pronounce that,’_ Derek thought to himself as he took the stairs two steps at a time. He stopped trying to figure out the kid’s name and focused on his special circumstance. “Deaf,” was all the paper listed.

Derek stopped at the top of the stairs, staring down at the paper. He’d never had a deaf student in class and had no idea how to accommodate the student. He sighed and kept walking, arriving nearly fifteen minutes before the class actually began at 1:30. The class was scheduled during a long block of time, taking three hours out of Derek’s day. He set his bag down beside the podium, pulled out the syllabi, set them in a pile on the table at the front of the room, and waited for the first students to begin trickling in.

It didn’t take long before a tall, gangly student, with brown hair, amber eyes, and moles dotting the deliciously pale skin walked in and took up residence in the first seat in front of the podium. As he bent over to grab a notebook and pencil, Derek decided to be friendly for once to the beautiful— _‘Nope. He’s a student,’_ Derek’s not-so-helpful brain supplied as the word, “Hello,” left his lips. Any personal embarrassment Derek would have suffered was relieved when the boy didn’t look up.

_‘This must be the Stilinski kid.’_

The kid sat up and looked at Derek before ducking his head to write something on the paper, a smile pulling at his lips. When he finished, he set the pencil down and held the notebook up for Derek to read.

_‘Hello Pr. Hale. I Stiles. I read lips and talk but I not talk very much. I come early to tell my profs and let them know they not need to sign, just look at me. I can take notes w/o looking.’_

Derek smiled and said, “Welcome Stiles. I’m Professor Hale. I hope I don’t forget, but if I do, just get my attention and I’ll make sure to face you. I’ve never had a deaf student before. May we meet after class in my office for a few minutes to go over what you need?”

Stiles eyes stayed glued to Derek’s mouth, glancing up every once in a while to gauge Derek’s facial expressions. Finally, when Derek finished, Stiles smiled and nodded, giving a thumbs up. A few other students began to trickle in at that moment, effectively stopping any more of Derek’s blundering attempts at communication.

**

As the other students took their seats, Professor Hale passed out the syllabi. Stiles stuck it beside his notebook as he picked up his pencil. Stiles lifted his eyes to watch his professor’s mouth forming his introductory remarks.

‘Hello. I’m Professor Hale. As you can see on the syllabus, this is The History of Latin Literature, ALAN 324, and if you’re in the wrong class, get out.’ His professor crossed his arms and glared down at the students. Stiles shifted in his seat and caught a glimpse of someone slink out of their seat and speed-walk out the door.

‘Now that that’s settled, let’s begin. This course meets Mondays and Wednesdays from 1:30 until 4:30. This is obviously the room we’ll be meeting in. My email is dhale@uncbh.edu. This is the best way to get ahold of me on short notice. My office phone and cell phone are listed below, as is my office location. I’m in the Young building, room 208-F. 

‘Course Description: Read it on your own time. Objectives: An understanding in the history of Latin, where it began, where it spread, it’s end as a common language, and it’s current uses today. Our textbook is “Latin Literature: A History,” ISBN 0801862531. I expect you to bring this with you every class, beginning next Monday.

‘The course outline is listed including all assignments, quizzes, and tests, but they are subject to change depending on the speed at which we complete our lectures. Attendance, you are expected to be at all classes. Any more than 10 absences without prior approval from me and you will be dropped from the class with an F. Late assignments and missed quizzes are not tolerated. Neither are electronic devices. Laptops must be approved by me. Academic dishonesty is not tolerated. The rest you can read for yourself. Being the first day, you may all leave early.’

Stiles looked down at his notebook and blinked in surprise. He hadn’t written anything down. He’d been too busy ‘listening’ to his professor and watching his lips. Those lips that Stiles could definitely become accustomed to watching. He wondered if he’d understand even more if he felt the words on his skin as they—Stiles’ face flushed and he began to pack up his bag before following his professor out of the room and to his office.

**

Derek listened to Stiles’ footsteps behind him and tried to calm his racing heart. The kid wasn’t kidding when he’d said he could take notes without looking. He hadn’t looked away from Derek for the entire hour. It made Derek nervous and he’d almost tripped over his words the entire time. He didn’t think it had been obvious, since the rest of his students nearly tripped over themselves trying to leave the lecture hall. At least he knew his method of ‘scare-the-students-so-they-take-you-seriously’ had still worked.

This was Derek’s fifth semester teaching at the University of Northern California Beacon Hills. He’d graduated two years ago from the school’s Ancient Languages graduate studies program. At age 24. His personal motto was ‘Diligence will produce success,’ and this was what got him through eight years of higher education in only six. He was immediately offered a position as the school’s Ancient Language department’s Assistant Department Head.

Since being hired, Derek had introduced two new courses, ‘The History of Latin and Literature’ and ‘Hittite History, The Cuneiform Language.’ The other two courses he taught this semester were ‘Medical Latin’ and a graduate class, ‘Biblical Languages: Hebrew, Greek, and Amharic.’

The footsteps sped up and pulled Derek from his thoughts. Stiles rushed ahead of Derek, nearly tripping over his own two feet but catching himself in time, to open the department’s door for Derek. Smirking, Derek walked in and led the way to his office, unlocking the door and walking in. He dropped his lecture bag beside his desk and took up residence in his office chair, gesturing for Stiles to sit across from him.

Stiles took the seat quickly. Derek noticed the blush easily and had some serious difficulty fighting the urge to purr at the sight. He’d like to see all of Stile—He stopped the thought right there.

Making sure he was facing Stiles, he said clearly, “So, my first question, if you don’t mind me asking, is why did you choose an Ancient Languages major if you’re deaf?”

Stiles pulled out his notebook again and wrote down, _‘Languages intrigue me. I can’t hear them but that doesn’t make them any less beautiful. Languages have always been important to humanity and ancient languages can help identify where our language roots come from.’_

Derek was surprised at the response. His surprise must have showed because he heard a small chuckle and felt the blush rising. He coughed once and said, “So what do you need assistance wise?”

Stiles pencil hit the paper and he began writing again, _‘Basically what you did today. If I’m gone, I’ll need a recording of the class. I will probably be in your office a lot since my other classes are likely to be easy. It’s easier if I have a question for you. I’m transferring to the department/major.’_

Derek nodded and said, “Seems reasonable. I think I can provide that, considering I never really leave my office except to lecture. Anything else you needed?” Stiles shook his head so Derek stood and held his hand out, “Welcome to the Ancient Languages major. I’ll have your advising folder transferred and change your advisor. Don’t hesitate to shoot me an email if you have any questions.”

Stiles took Derek’s hand and shook it. When he left the room, Derek sat heavily in his chair, putting his head into his hands. It was only the first day. This would be a tough semester. He picked up his things and turned the lights off, locked the door, and left for the day.

**

Stiles arrived back at his apartment he shared with his best friends, Scott and Isaac. They had been his friends since high school. Scott's mom had been Deaf, so she and Scott had always been a part of his life, seeing as the Deaf community in Beacon Hills was surprisingly lacking. Isaac had just kind of shown up on the high school scene after his uncle and cousin he had been living with had passed away in a drunk driving accident. They had been Deaf as well, so Isaac had grown up around ASL his entire life, seeing as his father abandoned him when he was 8 months old. 

Throwing his bag down on the floor of his room, he fell onto his bed and sighed. His professor was H.O.T. hot. Stiles had spent an entire hour staring at the man’s lips! And what had come over him when he said he’d be in his professor’s office all the time? Argh! He grabbed the pillow and shoved it into his face.

The man had the most amazing facial features. His eyes were piercing. His eyebrows could judge a person from across the University’s half-mile long campus. His beautiful mouth that could probably make Stiles see stars but also could say such intelligent thoughts. Stiles groaned. He was having inappropriate thoughts about his professor on the first _day!_ How would he survive the semester?

He was jolted out of his thoughts by a dip in his bed. He pulled the pillow off and looked to the side, seeing Scott there and shoved his head back in the pillow, groaning again. His hands signed quickly, “Go away.”

Scott wrestled the pillow off and smirked at him. “Tell me.”

Stiles glared half-heartedly and sat up, curling one leg under him, the other hanging down, as he signed, “I hate you. No, really.”

Scott just raised an eyebrow and waited. “Fine. My professor is hot. Like, the hottest. And I may have told him I’d be a permanent fixture in his office.”

Scott’s eyes bugged out before he burst into wheezing laughter. Stiles smacked his arm which caused him to fall off the bed with an “Oh!” facial expression before landing with a loud vibration. Stiles huffed out a laugh before standing and walking out of the room.

Scott followed like an excited puppy and sat at the breakfast bar, a smile on his face. He made a “go on” movement.

Stiles got out the pasta and put some water on to boil before grabbing ingredients for the pasta sauce. He then turned back to Scott and sighed, “Nothing else to tell. He’s hot. He’s my professor. I’m his student. Nothing’s going to happen. Nothing CAN happen.”

Scott huffed out a breath and signed back, “Won’t stop you from trying. I know you.”

Stiles smirked to himself as he pushed the browning hamburger around the skillet. “O.K,” he signed, followed by a flip of his hand.

Scott got up to go play video games while Stiles cooked. Isaac arrived a bit later, flicked the lights to announce his arrival, and sat down to play with Scott while Stiles finished the pasta.

As they all sat around the small table, overcrowded with school books, keys, food, and other random objects, Scott brought up the conversation from earlier. “Stiles has the hots for his professor.”

Stiles, in retaliation, flicked a noodle at Scott’s face. He snickered when it landed smack between his eyes, Scott making a confused face before picking the noodle off and smirking.

Isaac laughed and, while they ate, conversation flowed away from Stiles’ schoolgirl crush to their first days, to Isaac’s new job at Hale Confections, to this girl Scott met named Allison. Their easy routine took them through the rest of the night, the next day, and into Wednesday morning.

Class two. And hopefully, Stiles could get over his ‘crush’ on his professor. Only time will tell, right?

 **

When Derek arrived back at the Hale House, he slammed the door so his family knew not to mess with him. They would usually leave him to himself, but apparently Laura wasn’t going to follow unspoken family rules tonight as she bounded over to him and sat beside him on the large, corner sectional in the living room. Derek groaned and glared at her. “Go away.”

“Nope! You can’t get rid of me that easily! How’d it go?”

Derek sighed and rested his head on her shoulder. “There’s a new student that’s deaf and he’s smart and beautiful and he said he was going to end up as a permanent fixture in my office and I just don’t know how to deal with it. I’m his advisor!”

Laura was silent for a total of three seconds, before bursting into shaking laughter. Derek ended up on the floor when she pushed him off in her fit of laughter. Derek grumbled and stood up, leaving her to go help his mother in the kitchen.

He walked in to notice her shoulders shaking with small tremors of suppressed laughter. Derek sighed and resigned himself to being laughed at no matter what. He supposed he did kind of say that really loudly. “What are we making?” he asked her.

“Steak fajitas. Want to grill?”

Derek was the best griller in the family. He knew how to grill their meat to perfection. Medium-rare. (Or, as restaurants argue, rare.) What could he say, his family liked red in their _red_ meat. He took the plate of seasoned steaks out to the back patio where he turned the grill on to begin heating. As he waited, he began thinking again.

Stiles seemed like a smart boy. He had a lot of energy and bounced around a lot, but from the glint Derek saw in his eyes, he was intelligent and knew it. Derek wanted to find out how to best help his newest advisee and so he resigned himself to researching later with the family’s dinosaur computer.

Slapping the first steaks on the grill, listening to the sharp sizzle in the air, Derek took a deep breath. He exhaled slowly as he tried to decide what he was going to research. _ADHD. Easy, conversation signs. How to treat a Deaf person. How to know if a Deaf person needs your help. How to teach a Deaf person._ He didn’t think he was going to get many hits, but many he could get something that could help.

“Don’t cook them too much!” Talia, his mother, yelled from the kitchen, snapping Derek from his thoughts. _Crap._ He quickly pulled the steaks off the grill, realizing they were more medium than medium-rare. He let them rest on the plate before slicing them up into strips for the fajitas.

Derek moved on autopilot while setting the table. He brought all the place settings over for the entire family, all twelve of them. Mom, Dad, Grandma, Uncle Peter and his wife Felicity and their son Skyler, Laura, Cora, Derek, Jesse, plus Erica and Boyd. Despite his distracted behavior, Derek was able to finish helping Laura with dinner.

Laura called everyone to the meal and they all sat down, everyone descending on the food, passing it around the table until everyone has what they want. Just as Derek picked up his fajita to take a bite, his mother asks, “So, Derek. Who’s this Stiles kid?”

Derek spluttered and glared at Laura before putting his fajita down. “Just a new student of mine. He’s Deaf. I’m trying to figure out the best way to help him learn.”

Talia nodded and smiled, taking a bite of her own food while Laura smirks at her brother. In retaliation, Derek threw a slice of steak at her face. “Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything!” Laura responds as she catches the steak.

“You thought it,” Derek says like a petulant child while Erica laughs so hard, her water comes out her nose and Boyd’s shoulders shake as he tries to hide his laughter, while the rest of the family laughs as well.

Derek sighs and begins eating again, surrounded by the laughter of his family and the warm atmosphere of Monday night dinner at the Hale family home.

**

**End of Chapter One – Class One**


	2. Class Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI, I changed the title of the textbook for Derek's class. It doesn't change much, but I just wanted to let you guys know.  
> Thank you guys so much for sticking with me so far! I know it's only one chapter and it's pretty short, but I've been super busy and I really wanted to get something out to you guys. After we establish Stiles and Derek's relationship, the chapters should get longer, but don't quote me on that.  
> Unfortunately, this chapter, as well as the last, has not been read by a beta. If anyone is interested, just send me a message.  
> Thanks and enjoy chapter two!

Class Two

Stiles wakes up on Wednesday, groaning and rolling over, wanting nothing more than to get just another half-hour of sleep. He tried to push himself up out of bed and nearly face-planted the floor. Grumbling, he shuffled his way into the bathroom before taking a piss, hopping in the hot shower, and toweling off. He grabbed his toothbrush and shoved it grumpily into his mouth. He stopped mid-brush, staring at his reflection in the steamy glass as a thought shoved itself to the front of his mind. He got to see Professor Hale today…

The thought had an instant effect and Stiles suddenly was wide awake. Spitting out his sudsy toothpaste, he ran back into the bedroom, only tripping once over a shoe-sock combo laying in front of his bathroom door. He slid to a stop in front of his closet after hopping around on one foot trying to get his boxer briefs on without doing a face-plant before he gnawed on his lower lip, indecisive. Business casual or comfortable? He sighed and grabbed his worn in pair of dark jeans with the rip in one knee and a white V-neck Henley. He threw his clothes on and padded over to the bed, carrying a pair of socks. He plopped down on his bed, put on his socks and black high-top Chucks, before leaving his bedroom, grabbing his backpack on the way out and slinging it over his shoulder.

“What’s for breakfast?” Stiles asked Isaac, who was sitting at the breakfast bar.

“Muffins,” Isaac signed in response before taking a large bite out of his own and sipping his black coffee.

Stiles made a disgusted face at the coffee before grabbing a travel mug, filling it with a 20-80 mixture of creamer to coffee. He grabbed a muffin and his red hoodie, waving on his way out the door. “See you later!” He signed.

Stiles ate his muffin on the walk to his class, sipping at his coffee tentatively at first, testing the temperature, before drinking it without hesitation. He arrived in his first class, Old English (part one of three English classes for his major), two minutes early, where only the earliest of risers were already in their seats. He slid into his desk in front of Lydia Martin, one of his best friends from High School. “Hey, Lyds. How are your classes going so far?” He signed to her.

Lydia signed back, “You have a crush a professor.”

Stiles dropped his pencil, pen, and notebook, nearly dropped his muffin, and quite possibly almost spit coffee in Lydia’s face. He looked ready to sign something but was stumbling over how to phrase it before he asked quickly, “How do you do that?!”

“So it is true.”

Sighing, Stiles was immeasurably happy when the professor strode in and began the class.

He made it the rest of the morning with one other class, a lunch break, study break, and it was finally time for his History of Lat Lit class.

He walked into the classroom and slowly lowered himself into the same seat he sat in on Monday. Professor Hale was already there, his presence hard to ignore when he stood with such confidence at the front of the room. The older man cut a striking figure as he leaned slightly against the podium, his projector already turned on to the first slide of his lecture, despite it still being ten minutes before class begins. His hip was cocked slightly, arms crossed over his broad chest. The muscles in his arms rippled with strength—Stiles realized he was gaping and quickly lowered his head, his ears turning bright red in color. He glanced back up, snorting when he realized he was right about the professor’s eyebrows. They were judging him, whether Professor Hale meant to or not.

Stiles quickly got out his notebook and slapped it down on the desk, retrieving a pencil to go with it.

**

Derek had researched some easy, conversational signs over the last two days. He hoped to be able to actually hold a short, quick discussion with Stiles about his main interests. Fingers crossed. Who knows if the information found on the old 1995 Mac Desktop was even reliable; Derek didn’t believe it would be, but he’d soon find out.

Rolling out of his bed just before his alarm was set to go off at 6:15, Derek hopped onto the floor for his morning work-out regiment. When he finished, he jumped up, hopped into the shower in the bathroom he shared with Cora (still), and got himself ready for the day. It was quick, efficient, and routine. Precisely what he needed after the family dinner the night before (Peter had announced they were expecting a second child). The entire family had been in such a tizzy last night with celebrating, he hadn’t fallen into bed until nearly two hours after midnight. _‘God, I need to move out. What college professor still lives with his parents?’_

The savory scent of his mother’s rosemary and thyme breakfast muffins wafted up through the floorboards. Sometimes he hated being right above the kitchen, but other times, like now, it alerted him to when food was available to be devoured. He was usually the first one to the table, just like today.

“Morning, Mom,” Derek said as he kissed his mother’s cheek before grabbing a mug for coffee. He popped a mini muffin in his mouth as he poured the coffee, forgoing the sugar and cream as the bitter taste would waken his senses faster. He took a swig and made an involuntary face.

His mother laughed at his expression, nose scrunched up in distaste, before replying. “Morning, baby.” She had a habit of calling all of her children by little pet names such as ‘baby,’ ‘sweetie,’ ‘pumpkin,’ or Derek’s favorite for Laura and Cora, ‘mommy’s little monsters.’

Derek finished his quick breakfast before running back up the stairs, stomping an extra time to wake up Jesse whose room was beside the stairs. He collected his papers for class, stuck them into his bag carefully, closed his laptop before putting that beside the papers, and slipping into his shoes. He grabbed his nice jacket (so what if it was leather?), the lunch his mother had packed and his travel coffee, and his keys before jumping into his Camaro and driving to the University.

As soon as he arrived, Derek unlocked his office, put the lunch in his small, compact refrigerator, and took his computer out of his bag, setting it up on the desk. He worked on his computer, preparing assignments for the end of the semester, writing up the first quiz for his “Medical Latin” class. Eventually, he grabbed his bag, locked the office, and headed for his first class, “Biblical Languages.” They were beginning with Amharic as the language was still spoken today and was the closest today to the language used in the Bible. (Sure, Greek is still spoken, as is Hebrew, but both have evolved more rapidly than Amharic, as both languages were more widespread).

Following the class, Derek ate his lunch in his office as he wrote up the answer key for the quiz he’d created earlier that day.

At 1:10, Derek headed over to the classroom for his current favorite class, “History of Latin Literature.” His favoritism had absolutely nothing to do with a gorgeous Deaf boy.

After preparing the projector, Derek leaned his hip against the podium and stared out at the empty desks. He imagined them full of students, some eager to learn, others there because they thought languages was an easy subject, some needing a random elective and just wanted a ‘hot’ professor. Derek wasn’t blind. He knew his students thought he was attractive. He’d been asked out by multiple senior female students, a grad student, and a brave freshman. He’d been flirted with by male and female alike. His gruff personality apparently made him more desirable, something Derek didn’t understand at all. He came off rude, brusque, and sharp-tempered. This persona was an act, of course. Derek and his family and closest friends knew this, but no one else was aware. It was a way to protect himself after—no. He’d promised he wouldn’t think about _her_ again.

He was jolted out of his thoughts when the classroom door opened and he watched lanky perfection walk in. The only outward sign that he’d even noticed Stiles enter the room was the shift of his eyes towards the entrance. He smiled softly before going back to staring out the large window. He heard a soft gasp and glanced at Stiles, raising an eyebrow when he saw the boy’s head duck down. He noticed the bright red ears and smirked. Stiles glanced back up before going to retrieve his notebook and pencil.

Derek watched as Stiles took the end of the pencil and stuck it in his mouth. Stiles’ lips wrapped around the eraser softly and Derek’s grip on the podium tightened, his knuckles appearing white. The effort of his restraint was legendary. Derek was holding himself back from just… Pouncing on the boy. He should seriously be given some kind of medal for his strength of character. Especially when Stiles slid the pencil back out and bit his lower lip as he wrote something down. Dark lashes fluttered closed against pale cheekbones as Stiles closed his eyes. When he opened them, he glanced back up at Derek and noticed he was being watched, cheeks flushing pink as their eyes locked.

Derek’s breath hitched in his throat, the tension in the room becoming so thick it could be cut with a knife. It was heady and intoxicating just looking at each other. Derek wondered what it would be like when they were actually touching. The click of the door opening released the two from gazing at each other as other students filed in. Derek coughed once, unbuttoned his shirt cuffs and rolled up he sleeves.

He handed Stiles a packet of papers (the slides) and walked back to the front of the room to begin the first lecture of the class.

**

“Alright, let’s begin by going over a broad overview of the subject material. This subject is broken into five units, beginning with Early and Middle Republics, The Late Republic, The Age of Augustus, The Early Empire, and The Late Empire. Turn with me to page 1. We’ll begin from there.” Professor Hale turned the slide from the main overview page to the next slide as Stiles wrote down a few tidbits of information the professor said as he explained Literary History, the introductory class. The first few pages of the textbook took up the first hour of class. After which, Derek began to talk about literature from the Early Republics.

“Presumably, Latin Literature began in 240 B.C. when one of the dramas written by Livius Andronicus, thought to be a tragedy, was performed on stage. We’ll return to him at a later date. Right now, we’re going to discuss the origins of writing. As early as--” Stiles glared and ripped a small bit of paper, wadded it up, popped it in his mouth, spit it out, and threw it at the back of his professor’s head, smirking when he turned around to glare at whoever had the balls to do such an immature thing in his class. When Professor Hale saw that it was Stiles, he sighed and apologized before repeating what he’d said.

Immediately following class, Stiles followed his professor back to his office. As they passed corridor after corridor of empty classrooms (as most classes finished at 3:00), Stiles became lost in his thoughts. He wondered how nice it would be to be able to converse with his Professor in his first language, ASL. It would make life so much easier. He imagined the two of them, sitting at a coffee shop, Stiles sipping on a seasonal caramel apple cider while his professor would sip on a hot chocolate, and they would just talk and talk and talk for hours. They’d get kicked out of the coffee shop at closing time, finding themselves with their drinks in their hands, sitting on a snow-covered bench in the middle of December, huddled together to find warmth. Stiles would glance up to see Professor Hale’s lips moving, reading the continuation of their conversation as their hands slipped together, spreading more heat. The professor would smile softly, fondly at Stiles and Stiles would lean in ever so slightly, letting his eyelashes brush his cheeks as he closed his eyes, preparing for a k—. Stiles was jerked out of his thoughts when he saw movement of the door being shut in his peripheral vision.

Looking around, Stiles realized he had followed the professor into his office and had taken a seat without even realizing. He’d been on autopilot. _‘Crap…’_ He thought when he noticed.

Stiles watched Professor Hale sit in his desk chair and pull up to his desk, beginning to type on some document he was creating. Stiles pulled out his notes from class and began to highlight dates, titles, names, and anything else that stood out in particular.

When his professor waved his hand, Stiles looked up quickly, realizing his attention was wanted. His professor signed, “How long are you going to be in my office?”

Stiles smirked and signed, “Until you grow sick of me,” and watched his professor’s eyes blink in confusion before it clicked. Professor Hale had just asked him a question in sign language! Stiles jumped up, his notes flying off his lap as he stared at his professor before scrambling to get paper and a pencil. He quickly wrote down, _“Sign?! Since when?!?!?!”_

Stiles shoved the paper into his professor’s hands and stood there, shifting from foot to foot as he waited for Professor Hale to get over his shock at Stiles’ outburst and respond. When he did, he said, “I researched a bit the last two days.” Stiles noticed a slight pink tint to his professor’s cheeks.

Snatching the paper back, Stiles wrote, _“But… Prof. Hale, I said you only needed to look at me. You don’t need to learn sign language…”_

“Call me Derek and I need a new challenge. I already know Latin, Hebrew, Greek, English, and French. One more can’t hurt anything.”

Stiles snorted and smiled, sitting back down. He signed, “So you didn’t learn for me?”

Derek refused to answer and returned to his computer. Stiles chuckled to himself as he collected his fallen notes. The two fell into a comfortable silence as they worked on their own projects, Stiles highlighting and Derek tip-tip-typing away on his laptop.

**

Derek hit the period key one last time before leaning back in his chair. He folded his hands behind his head and closed his eyes. When he opened them, he glanced up at his student, highlighter in hand, cap tucked between his lips. Derek nearly groaned. Did Stiles not realize how seductive he was? Was he trying to cause Derek to stumble? He refused to do anything about his feelings for his student because… Well, he was just that. His student. No matter what Derek wanted, Stiles would never be able to be more. The six year difference was just too large for him to possibly entertain the idea that he may lose his job by pursuing a relationship with a student.

Eventually, Derek glanced down at the clock on his computer, which informed Derek that the time was 8:24. He groaned and looked at Stiles, waving his hand. “It’s almost 8:30. Want to go grab some food?” Derek asked Stiles, signing the three signs he knew from what he said.

Derek struggled to understand Stiles’ response, catching the words, “OK,” “Not,” and “Eat.” So, he asks, “You don’t want to eat?”

Derek feels Stiles’ laugh down to his toes. The sound is different, vibrations against disused vocal cords. It’s a sound Derek’s never heard before but finds himself wanting to listen to all the time. He smiles softly before realizing Stiles is holding up his notebook, a sentence written down. _“I said OK I dont have anywhere to be. where u want to eat?”_

A soft pink flooded Derek’s cheeks, caused by his ineptitude at sign language and having completely misread what Stiles had said. “Um, there’s a pizza place a few blocks away that has the best pizza in Beacon Hills…”

Derek caught Stiles next words, though how he understood through all the flailing of arms and hands, he would never understand. “Pizza House?! That’s my favorite!”

With a smile and a quickly signed, “Me too,” Derek packed up his things while his student packed up his. Stiles left the office first, Derek locking it behind them before they headed out of the department and out of the building. Derek tapped Stiles lightly on the shoulder. He patted his chest with a flat hand before looking up, figuring out how to say car before just giving up and driving a steering wheel. Quickly, Stiles wrote down a response for Derek and held it up, “You driving? OK. I get to see your beat-up old-man car.”

Derek turned and kept walking, now ahead of Stiles as a smirk played at his lips. Wait until Stiles saw his baby. His car was his pride and joy. It was a gift from his parents when he finished grad school and got the job at the University. They had blindfolded him in his room and led him down into the living room to wait. Fifteen minutes later, he heard the roar of an engine and figured whatever the surprise was, of course they’d wait until Peter arrived home in his Mustang. His mother had helped him stand up and walk outside, before taking the blindfold off to reveal a brand new, 2012, shiny and sleek black Camaro. With a bright red bow on the hood. And a huge gift tag saying, “To Our Little Der-Bear.”

Once Derek had gotten over the shock and embarrassment, he’d been ecstatic. His mother had hugged him tightly, whispering, “Because we’re proud of you,” before a set of keys was dropped in his hand.

Stiles exclamation of “No way!” in that hardly-used voice of his shocked Derek out of his internal reliving of memories. They had arrived at his car and Derek had already unlocked it. He smirked over the top of the car before sliding into the driver’s seat as Stiles slid inside. From the moment his door closed, Stiles’ hands were everywhere. Touching every button, running over every surface of the car’s interior, even stroking the soft leather of the seat. Derek looked at Stiles until the boy looked back. Stiles’ cheeks flooded and he lowered his head as Derek looked pointedly at the seatbelt. After Derek’s passenger was all hooked in, he took off towards the restaurant.

Once they were seated, Derek looked across the booth at Stiles, whose long fingers were drumming on the table as he stared at the menu. Stiles pointed something out to Derek, who nodded and ordered two waters and the pizza. When the waitress left, Stiles took out a notebook to write down a sentence before sliding it across the table. _“Why did you study ancient languages in school?”_

Derek looked up at Stiles and smiled. “My family history goes back a long way. I’ve always been kind of a history nerd but when I was 13, I traced my family history back to the early 11th century England. At 15, I discovered an old diary of an ancestor, written in Old English and I wanted to know how to translate it. So I studied Old English, which led to Latin, which led to other ancient languages, including a few dead languages.”

Stiles nodded along as Derek explained, smiling when he finished. Derek took a sip of his drink while Stiles wrote another sentence before sliding it back across to Derek, _“History, huh? What kind of history are we talking about here?”_

Derek could see the double meaning behind the sentence. The meaning behind how Stiles’ eyebrow arched while his mouth turned up into a delicious smirk wasn’t lost on Derek. He hurriedly took another drink of his water before he blurted anything about _Kate_ out. When Stiles raised his eyebrow, Derek sighed and said, “I enjoy military and literary history. I’ve studied not only languages but weapons, war tactics, past battle strategies, and more. I actually had a minor in military history.”

As the waitress returns to fill their glasses again, Derek watches as Stiles’ face changes from a teasing, smug expression into one of surprised interest. The waitress returned with their drinks, as well as their pizza, and Derek successfully steered the conversation away from him and to simpler topics, like hobbies, friends, and Stiles’ high school life.

_“I was on the lacrosse team. Well, technically, but I really just sat on the bench until the rest of the players were too injured to play.”_

“I just played basketball. Lacrosse was the lime light of the Beacon Hills High School and I didn’t really like being the center of attention.”

_“I only played because my best friend for like, ever, Scott was on the team. His mother’s Deaf, so he’s known sign language basically since he was in the womb. It’s how we became friends.”_

They continued talking about similar subjects until Derek glanced down at his watch. Stiles slapped the table and signed, “What?”

“It’s 10:15. I should get you back to your car.”

Stiles smiled somewhat sadly at that and Derek paid for the check. While they walked back to Derek’s car, Stiles signed, “So was this a date? You paid.”

Derek tripped over absolutely nothing but recovered before face-planting on the ground. Stiles glanced at Derek, smirking at the older man. “Uh…” Derek spluttered.

“It’s OK. I won’t tell.”

Finally arriving at the car, Derek drove Stiles back to his own car and sped home, still freaking out internally and blushing when he pulled into the Hale House’s driveway.

**

Stiles rushed up into his apartment and slammed the door, leaning against it before banging his head back against it. What on earth had come over him when they left the restaurant? He’d told Derek they were basically on a date. _‘But… he didn’t deny it… He just tripped over nothing.’_

Before Scott or Isaac could ambush him, Stiles bolted into his room and passed out on his bed, clothes, shoes, and all.

**End of Chapter Two – Class Two**


	3. Classes Nine and Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long guys. I posted a reply in the comments on the last chapter that I had some health issues. If you don't want to read about my issues, enjoy the chapter!
> 
> If you want to know, I had a severe case of iron-deficiency anemia, where I almost had to be hospitalized because my iron levels were so low. After that was fixed, I spiraled into a severe depression that I'm finally recovering from. I dropped all my classes but one and ended up failing that one, in addition to the heightened anxiety and depression I was feeling. However, I've started meeting with a counselor at school about my issues and I've finally started to take care of myself. So, I'm sorry for the long wait, but I think I'm finally in a place where I can pick this up again.
> 
> This is unbeta'd, so if you see any glaringly obvious mistakes, please don't hesitate to point them out in the comments and I'll fix them.

When Stiles woke up a few Mondays later, his back was sore, he was sticky from sweat all over, and his face was flushed from heat. He probably shouldn’t have fallen asleep in his clothes again. It was a habit he was trying to break. He just had to quit hiding from Isaac and Scott when they mention his crush on Derek. He sighed and slipped off the bed, running a hand through his hair. Scott and Isaac had convinced him to let it grow out last year, saying the buzz cut made him look “too high-school.” 

Stiles pulled off his shirt as he slipped into the bathroom, dropping it to the floor as he unbuttoned his jeans. He slid into the shower, wincing at the sheer iciness that sprayed his back, indicating their building’s hot water was screwy again. Grimacing, Stiles quickly washed his now-freezing skin and hair before jumping out and wrapping up in his fluffiest, warmest towel as he made his way back into his bedroom. 

He quickly dressed before heading into the kitchen, grabbing a blueberry muffin Isaac brought home yesterday from the bakery, and hefting his backpack up over his shoulder. He rushes out of the apartment and onto his bike. He ate the muffin in three bites while peddling to the school, which was about two blocks from his shared apartment. 

After parking his bike at the bike racks in front of the administration building, Stiles headed into his first class in the Henderson building. He took his seat next to Lydia again and purposely ignored anything she tried to say to him. After class, he ran out of the room before she could grab his shoulder and force him to talk, running the whole way to his next class. After he finished the boring class of History from 1775 until present, one too easy but a general education class, nonetheless, and his quick lunch in the school’s coffee shop, he ran to his Latin Literature class with Professor Hale.

He took his seat and let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. He sighed and took out a notebook and pencil, setting them on his desk and waiting. He was earlier than usual; his watch said 1:05. He passed the time by drumming his pencil on his desk, closing his eyes and letting the beat take him. Eventually, he realized he should probably make sure no one else was in the room and he opened his eyes, letting out a yelp when he realized Derek was leaning against the podium, reading from an ancient Greek text, a rue smile on his face.

Stiles wanted to die of mortification. Derek probably thought he was immature and childish now, having heard Stiles’ ‘I’m-bored-so-I’ll-pencil-drum’ spiel, but when he glanced back at the professor, Derek was just looking at him and then signed, ‘Why did you stop?’

Swallowing quickly, he shrugged and signed back, ‘Didn’t realize anyone else was here.’ Derek looked adorable when he scrunched up his face in concentration as he tried to recall the signs to understand what Stiles had said. Once he understood, he nodded before saying, not knowing how to properly sign what he wanted to say, “I tried to say hi, but you were off in your own little world.”

Stiles flopped back in his chair and signed exaggeratedly, ‘Oh man. I’m such an idiot.’ Derek had that confused look again and Stiles smiled, refusing to translate. Another student walked in and that was the end of that conversation. Stiles took to doodling in his notebook before his watch vibrated a little, telling him it was time for class to start, so he looked up and watched his professor’s beautifully shaped lips as he taught the class.

**

Following class, Derek looked up to see Stiles walking out among the throng of leaving students. He was about to go after him before a female student sidled up to him and smiled, asking if she could ask him a few questions about the lecture today. He agreed and began to walk back to his office, the student attempting to meet his strides, nearly running to stay beside him. She eventually said she realized she had somewhere to be and left without asking any questions. Derek smiled a little ruefully, another student who had thought she could seduce him, giving up before getting anywhere. He wasn’t interested in anyone right now. Well, anyone that didn’t have incredibly long, dexterous fingers, a sinfully delightful-looking mouth, and a special circumst— Derek stopped abruptly on the stairs, a student crashing into his back before apologizing and walking around him. He kept moving before he was run into again, but the realization that he truly was interested in Stiles had effectively stopped all mental processes at the moment. 

Derek walked on autopilot until he was safely locked inside his office, head in his hands. He wanted a student. This had never happened before. He honestly had no idea what to do, so he locked up his office and headed to the one person he knew he could talk to besides his mother that wouldn’t judge him or make fun of him too badly, his aunt Felicity.

When he arrived at Hale Confections, he noticed Felicity’s new hire at the counter. Isaiah? No, Isaac. He headed up to the counter and said, “Is my aunt in back?” The curly-haired, blond boy nodded and opened the counter for him to walk back. Derek walked into the kitchen and, as soon as he saw Felicity, he deflated just a little bit, a little of the tension releasing itself from where it had collected between his shoulder blades.

“Derek?”

He jerked and looked up, his aunt’s concerned face a few inches from his own. She smiled and offered, “Want to talk in the office?”

He nodded, allowing himself to be led into the back office of the bakery, before being sat down in a chair. “Tell me what’s up.”

It took him a minute, but he eventually ground out, “I’m actually attracted to my student.” He stopped to collect his thoughts before he spoke again. “I know you guys were teasing me about it a week ago, but I realized today that it’s actually true. I actually want him. I want to be with him. But I can’t because he’s my student and I’m in a position of power and he’s deaf and he’s a student and it’s wrong.”

Felicity nodded along before sighing and smiling a little at him. “You’ve really gone and gotten yourself into a pickle, haven’t you, Der-bear?”

He stayed quiet until she spoke again. “Derek. I can’t, in good conscience, tell you to go after this kid, since what you say is actually true. But, I want you to think about it. Think about why it’s wrong and if you can wait until it’s right. Think about the consequences of pursuing him now and what waiting would mean. But Der, you know we all want you to be happy. You’ve had enough problems in your love life already, so make sure he’s not going to add to that. He has to make you want to be a better man, and you have to make him feel the same. It’s your decision, but just know that we will all support you 100%. We believe in you, Der, and we love you.”

Derek smiled and nodded. “Thanks, Felicity. You always know what to say.” He hadn’t been that close to a panic attack in a long time, and Aunt F always knew what to say to help him come back down and think things through rationally. 

After a quick hug from Felicity, Derek left the office, walking back through the front and lifting a hand to Isaac before leaving the bakery and returning back to his family’s house, where he stepped through the front door to have a bucket of water dumped on him, courtesy of Laura and Jesse. He really needed to find his own place.

**

On Wednesday, Derek was at the bakery with Felicity, helping her with a batch of cream puffs and pumpkin muffins as Isaac walked in through the back door, a large cup of coffee in his hand. He raised the cup in greeting to Derek before making his way to the front to begin opening duties, like cleaning the front counter display window and putting chairs down around the tables.

Once the treats were finished, Felicity made up a box of cream puffs, pumpkin and blueberry muffins, and a few apple and cinnamon scones for Derek’s classes later. As he took the box from her, he smiled and said softly, “I think I’m going to go for it with Stiles. I’m going to ask him on a friendly ‘can we be friends’ kind of date where we just talk?” Derek and Felicity heard a glass break up front and a softly hissed, “Shit” from Isaac. Felicity chuckled and smiled, “If that’s what you think is best, Der. I trust you. I’ve got to go help Isaac clean up whatever broke. Have fun in class today.” Derek left with a smile on his face and he ended up terrorizing his students in his classes less than normal, to the relief of many of his students, he was sure.

When it was time for his Latin Literature class, he grabbed the box of baked goods, having decided to save the delicacies for his favorite class to teach (the one that not only includes one Stiles Stilinski, but also the fewest number of whiny cry-baby underclassmen). He set the box up front, opened and placed a pile of napkins, plastic knives, butter packets, and plates beside the box for the students before he took a cream puff and pumpkin muffin for himself, along with a plastic knife and butter packet, putting the butter on his muffin before eating it. He had just popped the cream puff into his mouth when Stiles walked in at 1:18. 

‘My aunt made…’ “Treats,” he finishes lamely, not knowing how to finish the sentence in sign. 

Stiles smiled excitedly before grabbing one of each and smiling, pointing to the blueberry muffin and signing, ‘My favorite,” as he sat down in his desk. He took one bite and stopped, looking at it funny before looking at Derek; ‘Does your aunt own a bakery?’ he asks. 

‘Yes,’ Derek signs back before saying and fingerspelling at the same time, “Hale Confections.”

‘My friend Isaac works there. He just started.’ Derek nearly chokes on his second cream puff, realizing why Isaac had probably broken the glass that morning. He nods and waves away Stiles’ concern, standing up and smiling, ‘I met him on Monday.’

Stiles smiles and takes a bite of his scone as other people trickle into the classroom, grab their own sweets, and sit in their seats. Professor Hale looks like he wants to say something else for a moment, before he goes back to the podium. He writes something down and Stiles looks back to his treats. He finishes the scone and licks the residual sugary sweetness off his fingers. As he sucks it off the pad of his thumb, he looks up at his professor, noticing Derek looking at him with a confusing expression. Stiles pulls the thumb out of his mouth before he blushes and looks back at his backpack. He pulls out a notebook and gets it ready for notes, thinking to himself about what Derek’s look could mean. Was Derek attracted to Stiles? ‘Does he like me? Why would he like me? Oh my gosh. What if he does? What do I do?’ Stiles eventually jerked out of his thoughts to start taking notes on the subject of the day, the Ciceronian period of Latin Literature’s golden age. He wouldn’t think about it. 

Halfway through class, a small piece of paper appeared on Stiles’ desk as Professor Hale began walking around the classroom, always making sure to face Stiles. Looking at the paper, all it said was, ‘My office after class –D”

Internally, Stiles was freaking out, but outwardly, he made sure to continue taking notes, attempting to portray nonchalance. He wasn’t sure it was working.

After the rest of the two and a half hour class, Stiles packed up his things slowly, waiting as the other students began filing out of the room, throwing away their plates and napkins on their way. He stood and shrugged on his backpack, walking around to grab the plates some students either forgot to throw away or left on purpose before waiting for Derek at the door.

**

Derek noticed Stiles’ initial confusion at the note but when Stiles continued to freak out the entire way to Derek’s office, unconsciously ignoring Derek’s attempts to start a conversation, Derek realized he may have gone about this in the wrong way. He probably should have waited, but he hadn’t wanted to wait after his realization this morning. He wanted to let whatever happen, happen naturally, but sometimes, like in class today, he made rash decisions. 

He’d only written the note because he hadn’t liked how Stiles’ face fell when other students had walked in. He’d wanted to continue talking to Stiles but hadn’t known enough sign to do so without having to talk and call Derek selfish, but he didn’t want anyone else knowing about his conversations with Stiles. He wanted to keep Stiles all to himself, his own precious secret. 

Once he’d unlocked the door to his office and let himself and Stiles in, he closed it and immediately held up his hands towards Stiles. “I’m sorry if I freaked you out. I just wanted to talk? Sorry, that’s lame. Um…” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, an embarrassed smile making its way to his lips. “I just… I had fun the last time we went out to eat and was wondering if you’d like to do it again? I don’t have enough fun in my life… This is completely out of character for me, so please don’t make fun of me…” Derek rubs his neck again before letting his hand drop and shrugging, “Sorry…”

Stiles just stared and then began to laugh, that delightful noise going straight through Derek, lifting his heart. Eventually, Stiles stopped laughing and signed, ‘Okay. Where to?’

Derek released a breath of relief and smiled. ‘I picked last time. You choose.’

‘What about that diner on 17th Street?’

‘Okay. I’ll drive again?’

Stiles smiled and nodded. ‘To the Batmobile, Batman!’

**

After Derek dropped Stiles back off at his bike, Stiles rode home and threw his backpack beside the door and collapsed next to Isaac on the couch, signing ‘So, Derek told me he met you on Monday.’

Isaac winced and nodded, seeming like he wanted to be anywhere but there. Thankfully, Scott walked in with a girl at that moment, so both boys looked towards them as the lights flashed. Scott smiled sheepishly before signing, ‘This is Allison. She’s majoring in ASL interpreting at UNCBH.’

Both boys smiled at her and signed their ‘hello’s’ and ‘nice to meet you’s.’ The two sat down on the floor and the four ended up discussing all manner of topics from TV shows, to books, to favorite foods, before Stiles got up and headed into his room. ‘Sorry, I had a long day, so I’m going to head to bed now. It was great to finally put a face to a name, Allison.’

After excusing himself, Stiles sat on his bed, lost in thought about Derek. What would happen? Stiles wondered about Derek and his family, he wondered about his aunt and her delicious bakery, what Derek thought of him, and what he thought of Derek. Eventually, he decided thinking about it all had given him the headache he was currently sporting, so he turned the light out and crawled under the covers.


End file.
